


Birth of a Fairy Tale

by Sheela



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2002-04-12
Updated: 2002-04-12
Packaged: 2018-01-06 09:30:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1105207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sheela/pseuds/Sheela
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A missing scene during the Fellowship of the Ring. Set after the Fellowship came down from the Caradhras and before they entered the mines of Moria.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is book verse. I hope I got all the important facts straight even if I had to invent a few things for the sake of the story – hey this is fanfiction after all! Enjoy and tell me what you think of it! Special thanks go to my wonderful beta readers Red and especially CAS who helped me improve this a lot. Thanks!

Their journey up the mountain of Caradhras had been extremely tiring. While the snow hadn't been too bad at first and they had made good progress, the snowfall had worsened with every step they took; soon the white mass had covered them all. The humans found themselves thigh-high in the snow, and Gimli and the hobbits found moving against the snow nearly impossible. Gandalf soon suspected that this was the work of Saruman who was trying to hinder their journey as much as possible; either that, or it was the dreadful mountain itself that was sending them the severe wind and snowfall. The swirling flakes whipped into their faces and the icy wind pulled mercilessly at their thin cloaks which couldn't keep out the stinging cold. All the nine wanderers could see before and behind them was whiteness and the occasional shadow of the person in front of them. Every step became a struggle, and if it hadn't been for their bigger human friends the four hobbits would have been buried underneath the snow. Bit by bit all their strength left them and all they felt was coldness and a fatigue that paralyzed their legs and arms.

Legolas had been the only one to keep up his bravery and almost cheerful mood, as he wasn't affected by snow as much as his companions were; for an elf, walking on snow wasn't very different from walking on solid ground and he barely sank in at all, even in the highest snowdrift.

But as the weather continued to get worse and worse even the elven prince was forced to give up. After the fellowship had nearly been buried underneath an avalanche of snow and rocks it was decided that they would turn back and make their way through the mines of Moria, since it had become apparent that they would never make it over the mountain alive.

Gimli was overjoyed by this solution, as he was looking forward to seeing the legendary city of his folk and meeting his kinsman Balin there. The rest of the travelers were less pleased at the prospect of their new route. Aragorn especially seemed wary to enter the mines, fearing an ancient evil that lay hidden in its depths. Legolas also hated the thought of being trapped in the dwarfs' realm; he feared nothing more than dying there, underneath the earth where neither sun nor moon or stars ever shone and no gentle breeze of nature could touch his body. However, the elf stubbornly refused to let his fears show. He had been chosen as the represent of all elves on Middle Earth, and he would never let a lousy dwarf see any weakness of him.

Their way down from the mountain proved to be almost as difficult as their way up. The path they had managed to create in the snow had vanished almost instantly beneath new layers of snow. Aragorn and Boromir, the two strongest and largest of the group, had been forced to fight their way through the white masses again, working their way through a snowdrift that was higher than two men and then carried the four hobbits that wouldn't stand a chance against the snow.

The snowdrifts began to lessen in size until it barely reached over their toes. Further down the mountain the sun shone brightly and the wind wasn't more than a soft breeze playing with their hair. The group's hardship seemed nothing more than a nightmare in this surroundings. But when they looked up the Caradhras, its threatening darkness was still towering over them, daring them to try and cross it again.

"And so we lose another two days on our journey," Gandalf said. "And with every passing day the enemy's power and influence increases. Well, it cannot be changed now. Come, let us go on. Not even at Caradhras' knee we will spend the night."

Exhausted and with heavy legs they stumbled down the slope. It was late afternoon when they reached the foot of the mountain. Their legs were wary and their bones ached with tiredness.

"Where will we go now?" Boromir inquired, voicing the question on everybody's mind.

"To be honest, I don't know yet," Gandalf answered truthfully. "But we cannot walk much further. We're all in bitter need of rest and the night is coming fast. However, we cannot remain here in the open either, for I fear we are in danger here." The wizard fell silent and the companions were left in quiet with their thoughts.

Pippin sat down heavily on a rock, unable to keep himself standing anymore. He stared into the distance, the landscape becoming a blur in the dusk, his thoughts wandering towards the horizon. Longingly, the hobbit thought back to his home, his wonderful home, with plenty food and a warm bed. He began to wonder why on Middle Earth he had been so keen to accompany Frodo on his quest. Lost in thoughts Pippin let his eyes wander where they would. In the distance he saw something that nearly forced his eyes from their sockets and made the hobbit jump to his feet.

"There! Do you see that? Do you see the same I see?" he shouted, unable to contain his excitement.

The other members of the group looked up, giving him quizzical looks. What was the hobbit talking about?

"There! Can't you see it?" By now Pippin was jumping up and down, pointing to the distance. "There is light!"

One the fellowship turned to the appointed direction, trying to see what the halfling did. "Yes, I see it also!" Gimli exclaimed. "There is indeed light!"

Frodo turned to Legolas who had the keenest sight of them all. "Can you see anything specific?" he asked the elf.

Legolas narrowed his eyes, trying to see more clearly in the dusk. "Our friend is right." He finally said. "There seems to be a house of some sort about a mile as the eagle flies from here. But I cannot be sure, as there are too many trees and bushes in between, hindering the sight."

"A house?" Boromir contradicted. "Here in this wilderness? That's impossible."

Gimli mumbled something less than friendly about elven sight but it went by unnoticed (except by Legolas, who cast the dwarf a dirty look) as Aragorn spoke up.

"Not so, Boromir," he said. "I have been to this land before, and if I recall correctly there is a small village not far from here. The light we see may be coming from either that village or at least from a farm house outside the village."

"Whatever it is, light means fire, and fire means warm!" Merry declared, his dark eyes glistering with excitement. "I say we go there. Maybe we can stay the night there underneath a real roof!"

Frodo turned to Gandalf. "What do you think?"

"I think Merry has the right idea. We all need rest after this trip, and the security of a real house could provide that better than any camp we may set up in the wilderness. If none of you has any serious objections, I say we go there and see if we can stay the night." He looked into their faces. All of them were too tempted by thought of warmth and security to contradict him. Thus, they walked down the hills towards the ominous source of light.

Darkness had fallen completely by the time the group reached their destination. It was indeed a farm house with a barn nearby, built of wood and the dark red stone that was characteristic for this area. The small, about waist-high, wall that surrounded the farm was built of the same red stone. Two high trees behind the house reached far above the crooked, weathered roof and there was a soft golden light of a fire emanating from the windows, giving the building a homely atmosphere. Altogether, the house looked so comfortable and inviting that the hobbits couldn't help but a heave sighs of contentment as the fellowship stood at the gate.

The rest of the group was less trusting. Carefully, Aragorn and Boromir looked around, trying to spot anything suspicious. Legolas also let his eyes roam around, his ears twitching as he listened closely to every sound; otherwise, he stood as still as a statue. However, none of them saw or heard anything out of the ordinary.

Gandalf nodded. "This place seems safe enough. I don't think our enemy has anything to do with this place. But even if the owners are indeed friendly, do not say a single word about our quest or the ring. Is that understood?" He looked at them all and gave Merry and Pippin an especially hard stare.

"Clear as ice!"

"Clearer than that!" The hobbits hurried to confirm.

"Aragorn," Legolas asked softly, "you have been in these lands before. What do you know of the village and the people that live here?"

"Well, I didn't stay long, I was just passing through. But as far as I remember a few dozen people resided in this village, as well as a few dwarves. The village developed while Moria was still in its prime and the people lived mostly from trading goods with dwarves of Moria. Because of that they were strongly influenced by the dwarves and their culture, which is still traceable in their lifestyle."

"Ah I see; a very good and wise people," Gimli stated, with a sidelong glance at Legolas. The elf, however, chose to say nothing about it.

"So, let's knock, shall we?" Merry suggested eagerly. He didn't care by whom the people who lived in the house were influenced; he only cared for the warm fire they promised.

The group agreed and crossed the small courtyard; Gandalf knocked on the wooden door. "Hello?" he called. "Is anybody home?"

They heard the scraping noise of a chair being pushed back, followed by a whispering among two people and finally the sound of heavy boots walking towards the door. The door creaked open only partway, and a broad face appeared in the gap. The man at the door scrutinized them skeptically. "Yeah?" He half grunted. "What d'yer want?"

Gandalf bowed his head in greeting, and replied politely: "We are a group of travelers who had some bad luck with the weather on the mountain of Caradhras. We are all very exhausted and hoped we could stay in your farm for the night before we continue our journey."

The farmer opened the door a little wider and, in the light that streamed through the doorway, Gandalf could once more see who was standing in front of the others. In his right hand, half hidden behind his back, he carried a heavy club. This didn't go unnoticed by Aragorn, who studied the man in turn. The ranger knew that it was meant for self-defense only; however, it didn't appear as though the farmer had any reason for a weapon. He was tall, broad man, with plain, not overly attractive features and very big nose. His deeply tanned skin spoke of the hard work in the open fields as did his huge, hardened hands, and his face was partially hidden beneath his beard and uncombed hair. Also, the farmer's clothes were fashioned similar to dwarven clothing, so Aragorn concluded that his memories about the village had been correct.

"A strange band of wanderers you are," the farmer noted after he had finished his study of them.

"But all good and honest people, that I swear by Durin's beard!" Gimli said, stepping forward. The farmer raised an eyebrow as he looked at the dwarf, then a smile passed over his lips.

"Oh, forgive me, I didn't see you, Master Dwarf," he apologized and opened the door completely. "Come in, and be our guests. The house of Padin Patel welcomes you." He stepped back and gestured them inside with a bow.

Gimli was the first to enter, smiling broadly at this welcome. Gandalf and Aragorn would have followed him with a slower pace but they were pushed through the door by the three eager hobbits who were overjoyed to get into the warmth. Sam took the time to secure Bill's reigns to post next to the door and told the pony to wait here, and that he would be back soon. The animal didn't seem to pleased at thought of having to stay outside in the cold since the wind was picking up again. Bill shook his head and whinnied in protest. Sam stroked him behind the ear and spoke calming to him until he seemed content. Then Sam too walked in after Boromir, followed closely by Legolas who closed the door behind them.

Inside it was pleasantly warm. The fireplace was crackling, the fire bathing the room in its warm glow. The scent of a thick, rich stew streamed lazily from the cauldron on the hearth; it made the hobbits' mouths water.

Padin Patel was just introducing his wife, Selah, a stocky woman with a friendly smile and light, glistering eyes. She studied the people in front of her with a smile. When her gaze came to rest on the hobbits she exclaimed "You were traveling up the Caradhras with four children!?"

Sam and Pippin grimaced, Merry looked a little annoyed, and Frodo fought hard to keep his expression neutral. Why was it that the bigger folk was so ignorant and always regarded the hobbits as children? Size wasn't everything and the humans did after all respect the dwarfs! So why not the hobbits?

But before anyone of the four could say something inappropriate Gandalf stepped in. "Oh no, kind woman, you are mistaken," he explained gently. "These aren't children. They are hobbits."

"Hobbits?"

"Also known as halflings."

"Oh, I see. Forgive me, little sirs. I have never met a hobbit before and believed them nothing more than legends. But now I see how mistaken I was. Come and sit at the fire, you must be cold and wary from your journey." She gave them another of her warm smiles and the hobbits found they couldn't hold the shimmer of grunge against this smile, so they stepped closer to the fireplace, grateful for the pleasant warmth it was emanating.

Stretching his hands lazily towards the heat, Sam took the time to look at the room they were in more closely. It was just big enough to hold the eleven people in it. Left of the fireplace, opposite to the entrance, a door led from the room, most likely to the sleeping quarters, and to the right of the fire stood a plain, solid oak bench. The biggest part of the room was taken by an enormous table, big enough to hold eight people. Next to the door a ladder leaned on the wall, leading up to a loft where Sam guessed the farmers kept their stocks. When he looked up the ladder, the hobbit thought he saw a pair of shining eyes, half hidden in the shadows, that were watching him from the edge of the first level. Puzzled Sam looked at it more closely and the eyes quickly disappeared. Surprised he turned around to see if anybody else had seen what he had.

"Did you see that?" He asked nobody in particular.

Selah smiled at him, having watched his eyes' path. "That is our daughter Shiara," she explained them, indicating up to the ladder where a pair of curious eyes had appeared once again and now quickly withdrew again when she saw a band of strangers looking at her. "You must forgive her, sirs, she's a little shy around strangers. Normally she's a real whirlwind. She's five years old and really energetic. Our two sons, Gary and Lou*, went to the village for a few days. They should return later in the week."

Sam nodded, sending a last glance up to their hidden watcher. But just then his stomach grumbled loudly, announcing that it wished for food (preferably a lot of it) and drew the all attention to the embarrassed Sam.

Gimli laughed, interrupted from the conversation he and Patel were having. "I think that's my cue to introduce ourselves. After you have so kindly accommodated us and my friend's stomach is so boldly announcing himself, it's the very least we could do to observe some common courtesies. I am Gimli, Gloin's son from the Lonely Mountain. This here is Gandalf the Grey, this Aragorn, ranger and warrior extraordinary, here we have Boromir, son Denethor II Steward of Gondor." Each of them inclined their heads in greeting before Gimli continued.

"These four little creatures are Frodo Baggins, Samwise Gamgee, Meriadoc Brandybuck and Peregrin Took."

The two youngest hobbits bowed at the mention of their names.

"Merry, if you please."

"Pippin, for friends."

The farmer and his wife smiled at them; few people could withstand the halflings' charms if they decided to show it. Then Patel's gaze traveled to the last visitor. Once out of the cold Legolas had pushed back the hood of his cloak and revealed his pointed ears. Their host's eyes narrowed at the sight, his face became grim and he drew himself to his (rather impressive) full height.

Oblivious to this reaction Gimli turned to finish the introduction. "And finally we have—"

"Legolas Greenleaf, at your service." The elf jumped in and also bowed to the man before him. Aragorn wondered briefly why he'd done that; cutting off the dwarf's speech and not introducing himself as the son of King Thranduil of Mirkwood. But then maybe Legolas had done the right thing – their 'travel group' was already unusual enough; the mentioning of a prince in their round would draw even more attention from the farmer. And after all Gimli hadn't introduced Aragorn as the rightful heir to the throne of Gondor either.

Patel gave Legolas a long, judging look. "An elf." He mumbled, scarcely hiding the contempt and the mistrust in his voice. Legolas face remained impassive and he pretended not hear it.

"You travel with strange company indeed, Master Dwarf." The man said, turning his head half towards Gimli while his eyes never left the elf – it was more than obvious to whom he referred as 'strange'.

"Yes, well, it was not completely by choice, good man." Gimli mumbled. The elf wasn't his best friend either; the two races of dwarfs and elves held a mutual contempt for each other that was almost impossible to overcome. Gimli's words hung in the air, filling the room with a sudden tension that made everybody uncomfortable despite the cheerful ambience. The elven prince met Patel's stare with cold eyes, refusing to turn away first and show any weakness. For a few moments there was an icy silence as even breathing too loud seemed dangerous.

Then Selah suddenly cleared her throat loudly. "Oh dear, this may become difficult," she said, making her voice sound extra cheerful in order to lighten the mood. "Where will we put you all to sleep? Our house is not that big, I fear."

Finally Patel turned his eyes away from Legolas and smiled again, even though his smile was a little more dimmed now. "It'll be okay, even if it gets a little full." He said. "Let me see... Master Gandalf and Master Aragorn may sleep in our sons' beds. We can take Shiara with us into our bed tonight, so the Master Gimli can have hers. Then, if it's not too uncomfortable, Master Boromir may sleep on the bench next to fire. For the halflings we'll also make place underneath the roof, with a few blankets it'll be okay for a night I think. Hmm... but then a sleeping place for the elf will be problem, there's no more spare place in the house." The farmer paused, looking at Legolas gravely. "You could sleep in the barn, the hay is soft and warm. Only if that is no problem for you, Master Elf, of course." He said with false friendliness and a saccharine smile.

Aragorn was about to protest; the wind had picked up again noticeably and the barn they had seen had looked anything but warm and comfortable. However, Legolas silenced him with a hard look and the faintest hiss, forbidding any interference. Then the elf put on a polite smile and inclined his head to the farmer.

"The hay will be fine for me, thank you. You've already shown us so much kindness."

Patel grunted in response. He'd expected more of a fight from that arrogant race. The dwarves were right – all elves were wimps, pulling in their tail when they sensed a confrontation with somebody clearly stronger than them. It was a wonder that this one was allowed to travel with such fine people at all. Maybe he was their servant, Patel mused. Well he'd shown him his place in these lands.

"I guess we're all settled then." Again Selah intervened when her husband's gruffness threatened to become too hostile. "Come, have a seat, all of you. I'll see if I can stretch the stew a little so it'll be enough for us all." Merry's and Pippin's faces light up like candles at the mentioning of food and they were quick to take a seat at the table. Boromir and Gandalf took the places opposite of the two hobbits.

But suddenly Sam broke in. "No wait! We're not all settled!" He exclaimed. "What about Bill?"

"Bill?" Patel raised an eyebrow and turned to Gimli again. "Do you bring another guest that we've not yet heard of?"

"Oh no Sir, not another guest," the dwarf said. "Bill is our pony and is carrying most of the baggage. We left him just outside."

"Ah, that'll be no problem. The elf may take him into the barn to stay with our animals. There's enough place for another pony," the farmer decided, assigning Legolas to the task before anybody could intervene and say otherwise. Aragorn could see in Patel's eyes that this was meant as another challenge for the elf but again Legolas agreed without resistance.

"As you wish," he mumbled and turned to the door. "I shall go now and see to our animal friend."

"I'll go with you," Sam volunteered immediately. "I have to make sure that Bill feels well and likes the barn." Drawing his cloak around himself the hobbit followed the bigger man outside.

Aragorn stared at Legolas retreating back for a moment. Why was it that the elf behaved so submissive tonight? Growing up among elves Aragorn had learned one thing from early childhood on: Elves were never submissive to anyone, except to royalty and other elves of higher rank.

The elves were the oldest race in Middle Earth, the First Born, and they took pride in that fact – a pride which they showed, and occasionally a bit too strong for their own good. Legolas' own father, Thranduil, was one of those with too much pride: his honor, or what he chose to define as such, was never to be challenged; when it was, there were no survivors. Thranduil's son, Aragorn knew from experience, also had a streak of this pride in himself, even if it wasn't as strong as it was in his father. And yet here he was, the Prince of Mirkwood, playing servant for simple farmer without losing a word about it. Something was clearly not right with Legolas and it seemed to do with their hosts' attitude towards him. Deciding he had to know exactly what was going on with the elf, the ranger grabbed his cloak to go out as well.

"Where are you going, Strider?" Merry called after him.

Aragorn half turned around. "I... er... I forgot something in my pack that Bill carried. I'll be back in a moment," he managed to stutter out; he then dodged out of the door quickly. The remaining members of the fellowship gave each other quizzical looks – Bill did not carry any of Aragorn's things; the ranger traveled light, all he possessed was at his side. Well, he would have he reasons for what he was doing, he always did.

"In the meantime we can see how to fit all of you at the table for dinner... And you my dear Shiara may finally come down from there and greet our guests properly!" Aragorn heard Sarah speak up when he closed the door behind him. Pushing his hair out of his face the ranger could just see the backs of Legolas and Sam leading the pony in the barn. Walking quickly across the courtyard he followed them. Legolas heard him come in and narrowed his eyes, looking at Aragorn questioningly. However he said nothing and returned his attention to the pony before him. Sam had lead Bill to an empty compartment and was now talking to him in soothing tones. The elf went to grab an armful of hay for the pony from the large haystack on the side.

Aragorn eyed the barn critically. About half a dozen piglets were fussing around their mother sow in a fold, two old cows were standing in the corner, chewing contently on some grass and about a dozen hens were walking around freely. The typical odor of a room full of hay and animals tickled in the man's nose but it wasn't a painfully bad smell, as the animals were well cared-for. Aragorn could hear the wind howling outside the barn. The boards of the wooden wall were rattling and cracking loud and threatening and at a particularly strong gust of wind the walls seemed to shake.

Aragorn caught a doubtful look on Legolas' face as the elf looked around in the barn, unsure what to make of it. However, as soon as Legolas realized he was being watched his face immediately turned expressionless again and he pretended that nothing was wrong.

Realizing that he was never going to find out what was running through Legolas' mind that way, Aragorn decided for a direct approach. "Legolas, a word."

"What is it, Aragorn?" the elven prince asked innocently, picking up a bucket. "I'm going to get some water for Bill, Sam", he called over his shoulder and headed to the well with Aragorn in pursuit.

"Why are you doing this, Legolas?" The ranger asked.

"Why am I doing what? Why am I getting water for Bill?" Legolas inquired simply while he put the bucket on a rope and let it down well shaft.

Aragorn rolled his eyes. Why did his friend have to choose this moment to play naive? "You know exactly what I mean. Why do you act like this?"

"Act like what?"

"That man treats you like a servant and you accept it laying down, and I don't understand why. I realize that the people here don't like elves in general and Patel isn't an exception but that doesn't give you the right to treat you like this. If he knew that you're a prince he'd..."

"He'd what?" Legolas challenged, putting down the full bucket he'd pulled up on the ground noisily. His deep grey-blue eyes were shining passionately. "Maybe he'd treat me differently, but it wouldn't change the way he thinks about elves the slightest. In contrast he'd most likely add arrogance to his list of our flaws. So why not spare myself the grief? A night in the barn won't kill me and tomorrow we'll be on our way again and most likely I'll never see the man again." His eyes softened as he looked at Aragorn, smiling sadly.

"Let it be, my friend," Legolas pleaded. "Tonight I'll be 'the elf' and nothing more; no Prince of Mirkwood and no son of King Thranduil. Let the matter drop."

The ranger studied his friend's face for a moment to see if he was really alright with the solution. Then he sighed. "Fine," he mumbled, "have your way. But I don't have to like it."

"That's not what I asked from you. I just asked you to let me handle these things my way." Legolas smiled and nodded towards the bucket of water. "Let's get Bill his water. Sam will already wonder what we are doing out here so long."

"Yeah, let's get done here. It's getting rather fresh out here and the stew they had in the house did smell delicious."

"We can only hope that they left any of it for us. Those hobbits can get rather gluttonous..." Laughing in good humor the two walked back into the barn, finished tending to the pony and returned to the farmhouse with Sam.

*****  
* Yeah, I chose the names deliberately. Like them?


	2. Chapter 2

There was indeed some stew left for them, along with fresh bread and some dried meat. Legolas ended up sitting on a barrel that stood at the wall – at Patel's instruction of course. There was simply not enough place for twelve people at the table, the elf had to understand. Legolas had just smiled and nodded understandingly, sending Aragorn a knowing look. But since Selah treated him with a loaded bowl of stew, a big piece of meat and more bread than he could eat the elf was not unhappy with his situation.

Shiara, the pair's daughter had actually gathered the courage to come down from her hiding place; she was now sitting on her mother's lap, staring at the strangers with big eyes. She wasn't much older than five or six years, with blonde braids and a chubby face.

Dinner passed with a flow of pleasant chatter, all depressing thoughts as far away from the minds of the members of the fellowship as possible. Patel talked mostly to Gimli and Gandalf, speaking about everyday business and trade with the dwarves – even though he said that they hadn't heard for a long time from the band of dwarves that returned to Moria. The hobbits entertained them all with some of their very descriptive stories – they were simply a folk of natural born storytellers.

Merry's tale about how he all alone – with a little help from Pippin – managed to save the entire village of Hobbiton from a malfunctioning firework that he had found on Gandalf's wagon had Frodo and Sam, who had been present then, holding their sides with laughter. The grey wizard sent Merry a dark look; his memory of the event seemed to differ slightly from the hobbit's version. But Gandalf couldn't hide the treacherous twitch that played around his lips – the story was just too well 'interpreted' and Frodo's and Sam's laughter was highly contagious.

Just once during the evening Pippin's constant chatter steered dangerously close to the reason for the fellowship's journey and their destination. But several kicks against the hobbit's shins and a few well placed steps on his large toes under the table had him quickly redirect his conversation – even though he announced later with a pout that would soon need some kind protective clothing for his feet since they seemed to be the main aim for uncalled fits of violence.

After they had eaten and even the hobbits' hunger was satisfied Selah gently pushed her daughter from her lap and set to wash the dishes. Sam volunteered to help her and after a few repeated kicks from the gardener to enforce his suggestion Pippin also agreed to join them, silently muttering under his breath once more about protective measures and unnecessary violence.

Legolas, still sitting on his barrel, had followed the exchange with amusement when he realized that he was being watched. He turned to see Shiara standing a few steps away in front of him, staring at him with wide brown eyes. Obviously curiosity had won over shyness. The elf smiled friendly at her and inclined his head.

"Hello, netharwenamin," he greeted. "You are Shiara, right?"

Then girl nodded slightly, still staring at Legolas with a serious expression on her face. Then she put her thumb into her mouth and started chewing her nail.

"You're an elf, right?" she suddenly asked around her finger after a few minutes of scrutinizing.

The elven prince smiled and nodded. "Yes, I am. My name is Legolas, it means Greenleaf in your language, netharwenamin."

What does this 'nessa when a mean' mean? And why do you keep calling me that?" the girl asked sharply.

"Netharwenamin," Legolas corrected her pronunciation gently. "It means 'My young Lady.' It's a title for you and I think it fits you. Don't you like it?" Legolas asked.

"I don't know..." Shiara mumbled, uncertain. She sniffled loudly and rubbed her nose with the back of her hand.

The elf looked up from his conversation with the girl briefly and caught Aragorn watching their exchange. The ranger cast him a short grin. It was hard withstanding the young girl's charm and her sweet directness. Legolas smiled back at him; he liked children very much for their honesty and innocence, and this one was no exception. But the elf's thoughts were interrupted by another question coming from his observer.

"Is it true that elves like to kidnap human children, take them into their dark, evil woods and there cook them?" Shiara demanded with a grim look.

Legolas raised an eyebrow in surprise. Where had that come from? He cast Aragorn a questioning look but the ranger merely shrugged – he was just as flabbergasted as the elf at the question.

"Who said something like that?" Legolas inquired.

"My grandma," the child explained. "She told me the story of a young girl who wandered too close to a forest after it had grown dark. The elves who lived in the forest came riding on their black horses of living wood and captured her. They carried her deep into the forest where they killed and cooked her. The elves ate her flesh and made shoes out of her skin and ropes of her hair."

Legolas sighed inwardly. Such tales were the underlying cause for much hatred between the different races. Somebody would make up a gruesome story about the atrocities of another folk and pass it down from generation to generation. So fear, mistrust and hatred were built up and once created they were hard to impossible to kill. The girl's father was an example of such things. People weren't born hating each other, they were taught to.

"So is it true, Master Elf?" Shiara demanded again. "Are all elves evil like my grandma said?"

"No, netharwenamin it is not true," Legolas answered, looking at the girl intently. "With the elves it is like with the humans and all other creatures on Middle Earth: There are good ones and there are unfortunately also some bad ones. But because one bee has stung you that doesn't have to mean that they are all evil, for they still give us their sweet honey. Do you understand?"

Shiara nodded thoughtfully. By now, Aragorn, Frodo and Merry were listening intently to the elf's words. The rest of them were still doing the dishes or engaged in conversation with the farmer – even though he kept sending the pair long side glances, for he too was half listening in on their conversation that was becoming more and more interesting.

Once again the girl spoke up, with yet another question – all former shyness was long forgotten and she was standing directly in front of the elf, her arms crossed in a demanding gesture. "But then why did Grandma tell me that story? Surely she wouldn't lie to me!"

"Maybe she didn't know it any better, netharwenamin. Did your grandmother ever meet an elf?"

Shiara shook her head, sending her two braids flying. "No. But she told me that the father of her friend once saw a band of elves riding by when he was still young, so she knows a lot about them!" She stated with all the innocent conviction that only a child could hold. Aragorn fought to contain a grin. Yes, so the grandmother knew a lot about elves.

"And my grandma is a wise woman because she's really old and knows everything." The girl said proudly.

"And how old would 'really old' be, netharwenamin?" Legolas asked her.

"Really, really old! She's over fifty years old, almost sixty!" Shiara explained, nodding seriously. Legolas nodded his assent in tune with her, his face perfectly serious.

At the table the people who were listening into the talk were fighting hard to keep themselves from laughing out loud. Aragorn had turned eighty some years ago and Frodo was fifty years old, so they both counted for 'really, really old' by the girl's definition, a fact that Merry found highly amusing.

But if the two 'really, really old', then what was Legolas? The elf was well over two thousand five hundred years old! The hobbits admired Legolas' ability to keep a serious expression in this conversation and Merry vowed to find out how he did it – this might prove handy in some situations.

"Ah, I see. Really, really old," the elf consented with a perfectly straight face. "Well, as to the story your grandmother told you, I don't think it is true. Maybe somebody heard something about a girl wandering into the woods where elves lived and he embellished it with a little too much creativity. And when your grandmother heard the tale, she believed it to be the complete truth just like you did, netharwenamin."

Again Shiara nodded thoughtfully; Legolas' explanations sounded logical enough and seemed to make her reconsider some of the things she knew. The elven prince decided that perhaps such a discussion was becoming a little too demanding for a five year old, so he opted for something new.

"While I cannot be sure if it is based on the same facts as is your grandmother's tale, my folk has a ballad that is very similar it. If you want me to, I could sing it to you, netharwenamin, and you can decide for yourself if it is true or not."

A smile spread over the girl's face and she nodded eagerly. "Yes please, I'd like that very much, Master Elf," she said.

"So, come here." Legolas patted his knees, indicating her to sit on them. Shiara hesitated for a moment, then took a deep breath before she let the elf pull her on into his lap.

At the table Patel looked up sharply from his conversation with Gimli and Boromir and tensed visibly. He had been watching the elf's actions carefully and with distrust for the entire evening. To see his only daughter sitting on the stranger's lap didn't sit well with him. With a grim look he slowly let his right hand travel down to the club that was leaning beside him against the stool, ready to strike out at the elf any second, should he dare to harm his child. Worried by the farmer's reaction Aragorn touched the hilt of Andúril hanging at his side, and saw Boromir do the same.

Feeling the sudden tension in the room, Legolas looked up from the girl on his lap and glanced shortly at Aragorn and Patel. After an extremely brief look, he returned his attention to Shiara, pretending that nothing was amiss.

"This is the tale of Equona, the girl who went to live with the elves in the woods."** With that Legolas began to sing, his low, rich tenor filling the room with ease. The tune was sweet and soft and soon Shiara was beaming at the sound of it. But she wasn't the only one enchanted by the song. All other activities in the room stopped, the men interrupted their conversation, and Selah put the dishes down, all eager to hear the elf sing.

The ballad was about a young girl named Equona who was lost in a forest after her parents had died in an accident. A band of elves found her and took her with them to their hidden village. Equona was adopted by an elf and grew up in the forest among the elves, knowing nothing of the hardship of humans; her life was peaceful and she had everything she could ask for. As she grew older she fell in love with an elf from her village, and they married. Legolas sung of how the couple played in the white snow of winter, lived in the blossoming trees of spring, kissed underneath the stars in the warm summer nights, and danced among the multicolored leaves of autumn. As the years passed Equona aged more and more, as humans do, while her husband Galen remained young. But no matter their appearance, nothing could surpass their love for each other. Eventually Equona died and Galen buried her in the forest, so that she was forever part of it. The sky wept for days and the winds and leaves whispered of the woman that had lived in their midst that was no more. Their grief was all-consuming and did not end for years.

Legolas sang the last part in his own language; it that sounded beautiful even to those who didn't understand it. Of the twelve people in the farmhouse, only Gandalf, Aragorn, and Frodo were able to understand what the elf sung. Galen had grieved terribly for Equona for he loved her more than anything else. Without her he could see nothing of the beauty in life and he lost all hope. Everything reminded him of his lost love, and so he built a ship and set sail to the Undying Lands in the West. But the omniscient sea he sailed upon knew that not even the eternal bliss of Valinor would be able to make Galen happy again after the death of Equona. So the sea sent a storm that capsized Galen's ship and the elf drowned in the deep ocean, allowing him to reunite with his Equona in death.

The last note of the song lingered in the room for a moment, and seemed unwilling to leave. After it had ended, there was only silence; even the crackling of the fire seemed hushed. Nobody said a word for a long time, awed by the elf's voice that had filled the room moments before. Even Aragorn who had grown up among elves and knew of their talent for singing was momentarily enchanted. Sarah had tears running down her cheeks, Sam was fighting back tears of his own, and Aragorn thought he saw a suspicious-looking glittering in the corners of Gimli's eyes.

Shiara, still sitting on Legolas' lap, was staring at him with wide eyes and her mouth was slightly open. Then she started clapping and the magical silence in the room was broken. Patel shook his head as if clearing it from something unwanted. His expression, which had seemed almost serene moments ago, turned grim as he hardened himself once more, calling the hatred he held for elves back into his mind. But the people around him were oblivious to this transformation.

"That was so wonderful!" Shiara exclaimed, hugging Legolas spontaneously. "Thank you, Master Elf!" He smiled softly at the girl's enthusiasm.

"She's right!" Pippin confirmed. "It was great, Legolas!"

"Yes, it really was, Mr. Legolas!" Sam wiped his eyes furtively with his sleeve.

Legolas smiled at the compliments and mocked a bow. "Thank you, friends. It was my pleasure to sing for you."

"Where did you learn to sing so well, Master Elf?" Shiara asked, still full of questions.

"We elves are a musical race, netharwenamin. If you think me a skillful singer, you should hear a professional elven musician – they can enchant you and make you forget everything but their voice."

"Oh, would I could hear them one day!" the girl exclaimed.

"The gods may prevent that!" Patel grumbled, drawing their looks on him. "Bewitched songs from a bunch of worthless root-eaters about trees and stars that make good and honest people forget their work. Really!" He spat and caused everybody to shut up immediately.

Shiara just stared at him without replying, knowing like any young child that whatever her father said about anything was the unbreakable rule, regardless of her own opinion. The members of the fellowship looked around uncomfortably; the formerly serene mood in the house had been broken and tension hung heavily in the air once more. Even Gimli, their 'main communicator' with the farmer didn't know what to say to lighten the mood. While the dwarf did generally share the man's opinion about songs about trees, wind and stars, he had, if he was being honest about it, profoundly enjoyed Legolas' performance and was incensed at Patel's harsh words about it. The hobbits looked enraged, Merry was clenching his hands to fists at his side.

Worried, Aragorn looked at Legolas. The elf's race had been terribly insulted and it wouldn't surprise him if the prince would now pursue revenge and attack the farmer to defend their honor. But Legolas did no such thing. Unmoving, he sat on the barrel at the wall and merely looked at Patel with an unreadable expression, seeming to consider his actions. When he finally moved to stand, the farmer grabbed his club again, ready to defend himself. Sensing a fight, Aragorn felt for his sword for the second time that night, and saw Frodo and Boromir do similarly; Gimli seemed unsure what to do and which side to choose.

But Legolas surprised them all. Instead of attacking, he bowed slightly and spoke. "It has become late and I believe we're all very tired from our journey up and down Caradhras." Looking at his companions shortly, he raised a hinting eyebrow.

Frodo was the first to understand and yawned grandly, nodding in agreement. Following his example Gandalf also yawned heartily.

"Oh yes, very tired," the wizard mumbled. Infected by their friends, the three other hobbits had to stifle yawns as well, more or less successfully. From there, it spread until everybody in the room, with the exception of Legolas and Patel, was yawning. Aragorn fought to hide a grin, as they were a real picture: nine fully grown men (or hobbits, dwarf, woman and wizard), with their mouths standing wide open.

Legolas grinned openly before he nodded gratefully at Frodo and Gandalf, and then continued. "So, if you permit, I will go to sleep now, for my bones are weary and I long for a good night's rest. Good night to you all."

"He's right, I dare say," Gandalf agreed. "I think it would be best if we all headed to bed; we shall continue our journey early tomorrow morning. Good night, my friends."

Legolas smiled before he picked up his cloak, pulled it tightly around his shoulders. He walked out, closing the door silently behind him.

After the elf had left, Patel visibly relaxed and they all busied themselves with preparations for the night. Selah set up a comfortable nest for the hobbits, consisting of several blankets and pillows under the roof. It looked so inviting that after thanking the farmer's wife for it several times the foursome practically collapsed on it; within minutes, they were sound asleep in the one and only true hobbit fashion: as one heap of blankets, cloaks, bodies, curly heads and furry feet.

As the sleeping arrangements were made in the warm house, Aragorn couldn't help but think of his elven friend in the barn. He could hear the wind howling outside and the rattling of boards. Inside the room the fire was slowly dying down, still emanating a pleasant warmth that would keep them comfortable throughout the night – while the wind was whistling through the small holes and slits in the wall of the wooden barn, bringing a chill to the bone of its residents. The only reason that Legolas was out there now were the prejudices that their host held against the race of the elves; the race that Aragorn had grown up with, the race of those he called foster father, brothers and his beloved. It wasn't really fair that he, who'd been Estel among the elves for longer than Patel had been alive, should sleep here in the warmth of the house while Legolas was hosted no better than an animal.

Finally coming to a decision, the ranger sighed deeply. Calling himself several kinds of a fool, he grabbed his pack, he pulled his cloak around himself and headed for the door.

"You can have the bed, Boromir," he called over his shoulder before walking out the door without further explanation.

The warrior of Gondor frowned but didn't ask for anymore reasons. The other human generally knew what he was doing, and Boromir certainly wouldn't complain about having a more comfortable bed for the night than a bench next to the fireplace.

Aragorn hurried across the courtyard towards the barn, the cold wind pulling at him mercilessly even on his short way. The barn door creaked loudly as is was pulled open only wide enough to let the man slip inside quickly. Looking around briefly at the pathetic accommodations, Aragorn wondered yet again why he was doing this – Legolas certainly wouldn't have asked him to. Sleeping in a drafty barn when could be lying in a warm, soft bed was simply insane. Yet when he saw his friend, the son of Arathorn knew that the decision was the right one. The elf was standing next to Bill the pony, stroking the animal's mane, whispering soothing words quietly to him. Legolas' pale elven skin and his green and grey cloak shimmered in the dimmed light of a single candle that was standing on a small ledge; every now and then the light would reflect in his blonde hair, making it look like pure silver.

When he heard somebody enter the elven prince turned around abruptly, ready to defend himself. Recognizing Aragorn in the semidarkness, Legolas relaxed visibly. However, he still frowned.

"What are you doing here?" he asked sharply.

"This is a free land of Middle Earth. Every man is entitled to sleep where he wants to, you know," Aragorn replied easily, opting for a light tone. Slowly, he walked closer to the elf who was still standing next to the fellowship's pony.

Legolas narrowed his eyes dangerously. "This is insane, and you know it, Aragorn," he hissed. "Go back into the house. You'll rest far better there."

"I'm perfectly capable of choosing my sleeping place and company by myself, thank you, my friend. I know what I'm doing," the ranger answered seriously, stopping only a few feet away from the elf. "Go on and keep playing the martyr for the elven pride if you must, Legolas. But don't expect me to just stand by and watch it. I owe the elves just as much as you do so I'll do what I must to honor them – even if that means sleeping in a lousy barn with an arrogant prince who won't recognize a gesture of friendship even if it hits him square across the face." He gave the elf a hard stare.

Legolas looked aside, rebuked. "Forgive me and my harsh words, my friend," he mumbled. "I appreciate this gesture very much." After a pause he looked up at Aragorn again. "You don't have to do this for me, you know?"

Aragorn's features softened and he gave a small smile. "I know. But, believe it or not, I'm not only doing this for you. I do this for myself as well." Closing the distance between the two of them, he clasped the prince's shoulder. "Come now, Legolas, let's rest for the night. We're both weary from our travels, and the hay does look surprisingly soft and inviting."

Legolas nodded his approval and after a last pad for Bill they slowly wandered towards the huge pile of hay, Aragorn lighting the way with the candle.

Dropping his bag at the foot of the haystack, the ranger was just about to let himself fall into the dried grass but Legolas held him back the last moment. Receiving a questioning glance from the man for this action, the elf grinned and pulled aside a handful of hay, revealing a single egg underneath it.

"You wouldn't want to sleep in that, nor would you want to face the wrath of the hen this egg belongs to," he explained. Then both of them burst out laughing helplessly at the undeniable absurdity of their situation.

When they had calmed down again, the man and the elf settled down for the night in the hay, careful not to sit on another egg. Burying themselves underneath their cloaks and the straw, they wished each other a good night; Aragorn blew out the candle and darkness fell across the barn.

Shifting lightly in his place to find a comfortable position for the night, Aragorn listened to whistling of the wind outside and the breathing and stamping noises of the animals. The sum of these sounds was wonderfully lulling and the ranger found himself drifting towards the realm of sleep when he heard a quiet "Thank you, mellonamin" from the person lying next to him.

He smiled against his cover and replied, "You're welcome, mellonamin. You're welcome."

Just when he was about to fall asleep, Aragorn was woken once more by the creaking of the barn door. He could tell from the way he tensed that Legolas had also heard the sound. Anxious as to who would disturb their sleep, the ranger sat up quietly and stared into the direction of the entrance. The door slowly opened, creaking in the movement. All Aragorn could make out in the dim illumination coming from the moonlight outside the barn was a dark, cloaked figure that stepped inside carefully.

'A Ringwraith!' the man thought, alarmed. What was the creature doing here? How had he found them and why wasn't the black rider inside the house where Frodo was sleeping with the ring?

Quietly – apart from occasional creaks – the creature closed the door behind himself and sneaked closer. Alerted, Aragorn put his sword at his side and heard the elf next to him shift in the hay; carefully feeling for his daggers as well, he became ready to defend himself. Then Aragorn noticed something and did a double take. The dark figure, stepping hesitantly towards them, was far too small for a Ringwraith; rather is was about the size of a hobbit. Either that or a human child like...

"Shiara!" Legolas exclaimed next to him, having recognized the figure in the darkness with his elven eyes. He sheathed his dagger again and sat up. "What are you doing here, netharwenamin?" he asked in a slightly reproachful tone.

The figure pulled aside its cloak, revealing a small lantern that was hidden behind it. The lamp cast a soft light, illuminating the girl's face. Realizing that she'd been caught, Shiara gave up all attempts at moving noiselessly and rushed over to the two people in the hay.

"I wanted to see if you are all right, Master Elf," she confessed, starting to climb up the haystack to where Legolas and Aragorn had lay down. The elf reached to help her with the last few feet so that the child wouldn't accidentally drop the lamp and cause a fire.

Flopping down next to the two adults, Shiara eyed Aragorn critically. "My father gave you a place to sleep in the house, so what are you doing here in the barn?" she asked him with a dark look, as if she was disappointed, or maybe upset to find him here.

The ranger snorted. "Don't I wonder that myself?" he mumbled, his tired bones and stiff muscles making him wish he'd just ignored his own sense of duty to the elf and had gone to sleep in a comfortable bed.

"Huh?"

Forcing those gruff thoughts from his mind, Aragorn smiled at the young girl – it wasn't her fault that he was exhausted, tired and moody and neither was it Legolas'. "I guess I came here for the same reason as you. Legolas here is my friend – has been for quite some time now – and I wanted to make sure he's alright," he explained.

Shiara nodded thoughtfully, watching them both. Then she looked closely at the elf. "I want to be your friend, too, so I'm also sleeping here!" she finally declared, huddling against him and almost knocking the lamp over in the process.

The two warriors were taken aback; not so much by the statement itself – children in that age did make fast friends at times – but by the vehemence with which it was declared. The girl's tone didn't allow any contradiction. Legolas shot Aragorn an half surprised, half amused look over the child that was hugging his midsection affectionately. Then he smiled and hugged the girl back softly before he carefully freed himself from her grasp and made her look up at him.

"I feel very honored that you wish to be my friend, netharwenamin," he told her. "But you don't have to sleep here to receive my friendship. Go back into the house, it's warmer there."

Shiara shook her head, sending her hair flying. "I'm not cold, I've got a thick cloak, you see?"

"But you're parents will worry for you if they wake up in the middle of the night and find you gone," Aragorn interfered, trying another approach.

However, the girl shook her head again. "Nay, they never wake before sunrise, no matter what happens. I'll stay here." she declared for the second time, cuddling closer against the elf again. Aragorn and Legolas looked at each other and then simultaneously shrugged helplessly. The girl's mind was made up, and obviously their chances to change her mind were slim to none.

Dramatically heaving a sigh of defeat, Legolas ruffled Shiara's hair. "Alright, netharwenamin, you can sleep here with us," he told her.

Squealing in delight, the girl huddled deep into the hay, making a comfortable nest for herself next to her new friend.

Praying that he would finally be granted some sleep, Aragorn blew out the lamp and wished his sleeping companions a good night. After the obligatory rustling, shifting, and trying to find a comfortable position, silence fell over the three of them.

Soon the ranger felt his eyelids drop. Outside, the wind was still blowing, harder now, causing the boards to rattle and crackle. Synchronously with these sounds, fearful intakes of breath and silent, startled squeaks could be heard, coming from the young child lying in the hay. Obviously the barn wasn't as pleasant a place to sleep as Shiara had imagined it to be – even with an elf at her side. Well, it wasn't really Aragorn's problem. He was too tired to care now whether a little girl was afraid of strange noises in the darkness; the ranger had had a hard and tiring day in long and hard journey that wasn't over yet.

But just when Aragorn had thought this a new sound was added to the background noise: The soft sound of an elven voice singing quietly to the frightened girl that lay cuddled against his chest. The tune was slow and pleasant; the elven words, sung in a low tenor, were melodious as ever in their sound. Everything in the barn fell silent at the sound, Shiara forgot her fears over listening to Legolas, the animals hushed their noises in order to hear him sing; even the wind outside seemed to slow down for it. After a moment Aragorn recognized the song – it was an elven lullaby. Growing up among elves the ranger had heard it often in his childhood. Now the song brought back pleasant memories of this blissful time and eventually Aragorn drifted into peaceful slumber.

When Legolas had let the last notes of the song fade out, all that could be heard in the barn was the deep, regular breathing of two sleeping humans. At this a content smile appeared on the elf's face, hidden by the darkness.

"Quel kaima, melloneamin." *Sleep well, my friends* Legolas whispered just before he fell asleep as well.

The fellowship rose early the next morning (some less out of free will than others) and prepared to continue their journey. Their destination for the day was to enter the mines of Moria which they would reach at sunset. It was a clear, cold day and the morning sun was shining brightly, promising them good traveling conditions.

Before they left, they were treated with a opulent breakfast and to the hobbits' delight Selah equipped them with enough fresh homemade bread to last for three days.

After that, it was time for the goodbye. Standing outside in front of the farm house, Gimli thanked Patel again for his hospitality and friendliness and wished him only the best for his future. The farmer in turn wished them all a pleasant voyage to wherever it might lead them and for Gimli that his mining may be ever fruitful. In front of the entire fellowship, Shiara was again very shy, clinging to her mother's skirt, half hiding behind it. She kept sending Legolas longing looks, as if she wanted to tell him something badly, but she did not speak up.

When Gimli had finished his farewells the group turned to be on their way. But they were stopped by Legolas with a determined "Wait" which earned him eleven curious looks.

Then the elf stepped forward to Patel who eyed him suspiciously. Ignoring his dark look, Legolas presented the farmer with three gold coins. The man's eyes light up at this, even though he still remained skeptical. From the greedy glittering in Patel's eyes, Aragorn could tell that he was barely keeping himself from snatching the money from the elf's hand. Three gold coins were an incredible amount of money for a simple farmer. When Legolas spoke up he had the undivided attention from all present people.

"Before I left my home my father gave me these and told me to use them as I would," the elf explained. "In the forest we have not much for these little gold things, but I know that they are very valuable for humans. And while I know that real hospitality and kindness such as you showed us cannot be repaid by anything, I do hope that this gift will be valuable for you as well." With this he placed the coins in Patel's hands. The farmer alternately looked at the money and at the tall creature before him, undecided what to say or do.

Aragorn also watched his elven friend. Legolas had told the man an outrageous lie: Elves did very well know the value of gold and it was common knowledge that especially Legolas' father Thranduil had strong love for the metal. Rumor had it that the king of Mirkwood spend several hours a day counting and admiring his treasures. It wasn't very likely that he'd tell his son to spend his precious gold on whatever he pleased, much less on some ungrateful humans. But Legolas wasn't his father; a fact that he proved again and again, just like now.

Finally Patel replied to the gesture, partly thanks to the expectant glares he kept getting from his wife. "Th... Thank you, Master Elf," he mumbled indistinctly, refusing to look at his benefactor.

"Yes, thank you very much!" Selah confirmed with an enthusiastic smile, grabbing Legolas' hands and giving him a firm shake.

The elf merely smiled and inclined his head. "You're welcome, my lady," he said. "But we must be on our way now. Farewell." With this, he turned and the fellowship started to walk away.

But the group had not yet reached the gate when they were stopped yet again.

"Wait!" came a high pitched shout. "Please! Wait!" The nine travelers turned to see Shiara rushing towards them.

"Master Elf! Please wait!" she shouted, halting in front of them, her shyness defeated. Legolas smiled and knelt down so he was on eye level with the girl.

"What is it, netharwenamin?" he asked her.

"Will I ever see you again, Master Elf?" she inquired. "After all you said you were my friend now!"

"Of course you will see me again. I will come and visit you when you've grown up."

"You promise?" Shiara asked unsure.

The elf nodded. "I promise by my name as Prince Legolas Greenleaf of Mirkwood, son of King Thranduil," he told her, using his full name. Delighted, Shiara hugged the prince while her father's jaw hit the ground at the mentioning of the elf's title and status.

After some time Legolas freed himself gently from the girl's embrace and stood up. "I fear we have to go now. But we will meet again, netharwenamin," he said. "Namaarie. Lissenen ar' maska'lalaith tenna' lye omentuva. Farewell. Sweet water and light laughter till next we meet."

"Farewell, Master Elf. My friend." Shiara stepped back slowly and waved goodbye until the fellowship had disappeared from sight.

Many adventures awaited them...

*****  
** I'm not good at rhyming and making up songs so I decided to spare you the grief of reading any poor attempt that I might make – be grateful for it!


	3. Epilogue

Slowly, two travelers made their way across the land, the impressive mountains looming behind them. The sun was sinking low on the horizon, casting its last rays of light on them. Even from a distance, they seemed an unlikely pair: one tall and slender, walking with the natural grace of a wildcat, the other short and sturdy, his heavy steps speaking of his enormous strength. They couldn't have been more different, and yet they were the best friends, with a friendship unmatched in Middle Earth. They had traveled far together, seen many things, and encountered countless adventures, always coming out on top and earning themselves the fame of two of Middle Earth best warriors.

But the land they were traveling through now was peaceful and war and fighting were far from their minds. They walked comfortably along a well-treaded path, a steady flow of cheerful banter and teasing between the two friends.

"You haven't even told me where we're going," Gimli accused the elf next to him.

Legolas smiled down at his smaller friend, before replying. "I told you I had a promise to keep. I didn't even ask you to accompany me – you could have easily stayed in Ithilien. Your dwarven craftsmanship would surely be appreciated there."

"What? Stay there and leave all the fun to you alone if you run into trouble? And as I recall, you always manage to find trouble wherever you go, Master Elf. Who would be there to save your sorry, skinny elf-hide if not for me?" Gimli demanded.

"Oh, really?" Legolas asked, pretending to be surprised. "I would have sworn those mercenaries we had a fight with last months were after you, Master Dwarf, because you had cheated them at cards and stolen their money?" he mocked, knowing exactly how sensitive the dwarf reacted to this matter.

"And I keep telling you that I had won it in an honest game. Is it my fault that they can't lose a fair game against a good dwarf?" Gimli scratched his impressive beard that was showing the first streaks of silver. "But I showed them what a real dwarf is made of! That was a lesson they'll never forget!"

"You mean, we showed them, don't you Master Dwarf?" Legolas corrected him softly. "I seem to recall saving your hide from some pretty nasty looking swords..."

Gimli grunted in a sort of non-committal agreement. "But as I said, we showed them that a dwarf and an elf are not easily attacked from behind! Ha! The expression on their leader's face was priceless when he found that all his companions had fled!" The shorter wanderer roared with laughter, causing some birds to fly up into the sky, frightened by the loud sound. Legolas merely grinned, pleased to see his companion in such high spirits than at the memory of their last fight.

They walked in silence for awhile, until Gimli spoke again.

"You know, you still haven't told me where we are going," he said, brining up the subject again. "Is it far? The night is approaching and we should set up our camp before darkness falls completely."

"No, it isn't far now. And tonight, if everything goes well, we shall not sleep out in the open but in comfortable beds! As to where we're heading, let's just say, it's an old friend and a surprise for you, my impatient friend."

Gimli merely grumbled at – in his opinion – this typical elven answer. 'Not far and a surprise!' The dwarf had already been of the opinion that elves should be forbidden to speak in such riddles and relative terms for a long time now. It would make living with them far easier!

"Not far, you say. I bet we would already be there if you didn't have to stop at each and every tree that we pass!" Gimli accused his friend, trying to pull him into another argument about the elf's love and admiration for the forest. If anything, a good argument would keep him occupied and entertained during the rest of their journey.

But Legolas merely shrugged his shoulders at the accusation and grinned, easily seeing through the dwarf's attempt. With a few large steps, he reached the top of the little hill they were climbing and gestured down.

"There, my friend, lies our destination and our place for the night," he said.

Gimli followed his arm and saw, about half of a mile away, an old farm house with a barn and two gigantic old tress behind it, surrounded by a low stone wall. At the sight, the dwarf's brain began to recall the scene before them.

"I remember this place!" Gimli exclaimed. "We came here with the fellowship of the ring, before we entered Moria!"

"Aye," Legolas assented, pleased to see that his friend was remembering and at his obvious joy at seeing the farm. "And it was here that I gave promise to a certain lady that I intend to keep. Come now." Slowly the two warriors made their way down the hill and towards the house.

As they came nearer the two could make out the form of somebody sitting on a bench in front of the house, enjoying the last rays of light. The person – an elderly woman as far as Gimli could tell from the distance – was bent over a stack of papers on her lap, so she didn't notice the dwarf and elf coming closer. The woman kept scribbling on a piece of paper, a smile occasionally appearing on her face, as if something on the parchment amused her.

When they were but a few steps away, Legolas called out to get the woman's attention. "Vedui'!" *Greetings!*

The woman's head snapped up in surprise, and she looked closely at them. Her tanned skin revealed the wrinkled lines of age, which increased in number at the slight frown. The sun reflected off her gray hair which was most likely blonde once, and she wore the plain clothes of simple folk. Gimli guessed her to be about fifty years old.

Then suddenly an expression of recognition spread across the woman's face and her lips broke into a large smile. Putting the stack of papers from her lap hastily aside, she jumped up with surprising agility.

"Master Elf!" she exclaimed, her brown eyes shining. "Yallume! Nae saian luume'!" *At last! It has been too long!* Shiara added in the elven language, smiling. "Elen sila lumenn omentilmo!" *A star shall shine upon the hour of our meeting!*

Legolas gave a surprised gasp at this, then bowed his head, smiling broadly as well. "Aye," he replied. "Cormamin lindua ele lle." *My heart sings to see you.*

Gimli had spent enough time with his elven friend in the last decade or so to get at least a basic grasp of Sindarin, especially of the traditional, formal greetings of the elves, so he understood most of their conversation. But still he was grateful when the two switched to common Westron again.

"I see you learned Sindarin. I'm truly impressed, netharwenamin," Legolas said.

"Yes, I have traveled far in my life, seen and learned many things, especially about elves – as it was my wish when I was but a young girl. But I'm forgetting my good manners." She turned to Gimli and bowed her head. "Greetings to you, too, Master Dwarf. I'm delighted to see you again."

Gimli inclined his head as well, smiling. "So am I, Lady Shiara. It has been long since I last saw you."

"The years have been very kind with you, I see," Shiara commented.

The dwarf shrugged. "Not as kind as with my friend here, I fear." He stroked across the silver lines in his long beard and thought about the spots on the back of his head that had been covered with a considerably larger amount of hair a few years ago.

"Aye, such is the way of the Eldars," the woman agreed.

"You speak like somebody who knows a lot about the elven ways, netharwenamin," Legolas noted.

"Aye, indeed, Master Elf. I daresay I do know a lot about elves and their ways – for a human at least," Shiara said. "I know many stories and legends about elves and also about other magical creatures and I have begun writing those tales down for the generations that are to come after all elves have vanished from Middle Earth and have gone into the West." There was a short pause at these sad words. They all knew it was true, the time for elves on Middle Earth was coming to an end. More and more of the Eldars went into the West. The time of humans had come and it wouldn't be long before elves were nothing but creatures of legend and myth, in stories to be told to children.

As much as this upset Gimli, there was nothing he could do about if. Times had changed, and few elves remained in Middle Earth now. He knew that Legolas also had been longing to go for some time. The only thing that kept the elven Prince tied to this place were his mortal friends – and Gimli feared what would happen if those ties proved to be too weak one day. Would his friend leave them all behind to follow his heart's call?

A melancholy mood had settled over the three of them and darkened their thoughts on this joyous occasion. However, Shiara spoke up, breaking the sadness in the air.

"But will you still insist on calling me a 'young lady', Master Elf? The days when I was young and a child have long since passed." Her tone was light, and it didn't fail in its intent to lighten the mood.

"That may be true for humans, netharwenamin, but for me you are still a young one and a true lady, as you have always been. So, yes, I will insist on calling you a young lady," the elven Prince replied with a grin, all heavy thoughts far from his mind once more.

The old woman sighed dramatically, but one could tell from the smirk that glittered in her eyes that it was nothing but a false despondency and that she secretly enjoyed her elven title.

"So, will you at least tell me why you came here, Master Elf? True, I am delighted to see you again, but what I don't understand is why you came?" she asked finally, getting back to a more serious matter.

At this Gimli snorted loudly into his beard. "I already asked him that question today. Took me a while to get at least a sort of response out of the elf..." he mumbled to himself.

Sharp ears picking up his shorter friend's words, Legolas couldn't help but grin. The way his dwarven friend could grumble about everything never failed to amuse him.

Then he turned to answer Shiara's question. "Well, netharwenamin, a long time ago I gave promise to a young friend. And as you might have learned on journeys, elves have the habit to keep their promises. So now I'm here, my friend."

The old woman looked down. "I had already begun to believe you had forgotten the both of us, the promise and me," she said in a quiet voice. "After all it's been a long time and I was nothing but a child that you encountered on your long, legendary journey."

Legolas stepped forward and gently raised Shiara's chin. Softly he stroked her lined face and a supernatural glimmer seemed to pass from him onto her.

"Never would I forget a friend," he told her firmly, looking deep into her brown eyes. "We elves may have all the time in the world for great deeds and creating legends, but it is the gift of true friendship that makes our lives worth something."

Shiara blinked back tears. This she had not expected. As a child she had sometimes dreamt of this day, but never had she imagined to be gifted with such a friendship that sprang out of a chance meeting.

Gimli, too, was fighting down a lump in his throat. Dwarven custom taught that too many emotional shows of affection were to be avoided since they diverted the attention from more important matters. But regardless of custom, Gimli felt deeply moved by his friend's words. It showed how much the elf really appreciated friendship, and Gimli was proud to have the honor of such a friendship with Legolas.

"Thank you, mellonamin," Shiara whispered. "Thank you for your friendship."

Legolas nodded and smiled. "You're more than welcome," he said, before changing the topic. "But let's go inside now. I hope it's alright with you because I already promised Gimli a warm, comfortable bed for the night and I fear what he'll do if I have to break that promise."

The dwarf grumbled something unclear in affirmation, more for show than for anything else – after all he had an image to maintain!

"And then I'd like to see those tales about elves that you have collected, netharwenamin. After all I have to examine what the future generations will hear about my folk and how much of it is nothing but exaggerated superstition!" Legolas added.

Shiara laughed goodheartedly. "Of course you're welcome in my house. You shall sleep this night in warm beds and you shall see what I've written so far. I sincerely hope it finds your approval, Master Elf," she said.

With that she opened the door and led the two of them inside, to an evening full of laughter and stories of old adventures.

And outside on the bench in front of the house lay the momentarily forgotten pack of parchment, in which Shiara had written her stories. The last golden-red rays of sunlight that shone over the hills illuminated the leather bound cover of the pack, causing the imprinted letters of the title to glow softly; the title of a collection that was to be read in hundreds of generations to come, brining them joy and happy hours: "Elven and Fairy Tales"

The End


End file.
